Trapped
by bassgoddess
Summary: Takes place after the infamous DH1 scene where the snatchers apprehend the golden trio.  Hermione/Scabior.  Will be rated M for future chapters.
1. Chapter 1

This scene takes place right after the golden trio are apprehended by the snatchers, and before they are taken to malfoy manor. I've taken a lot of liberties here, but hope you guys enjoy!

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><p>He had her by the back of her jacket and pushed her along as she willed her feet to stop stumbling on the roots and dirty forest ground. Hermione was exhausted. Days of little to no sleep as they took turns standing watch had taken their toll on her. She stumbled once more and cried out. The snatcher's arm went taut and he pulled her back to a standing position by her jacket. Too tired to glare at him, she turned, her eyes half closed.<p>

"Please...need...to rest...," she spoke in her delerium.

She was rewarded with a shove from him; from the hand fisted in the back of her jacket. Her feet gave way once more as she cried out this time hitting the ground. She felt his hand release the grip on her as he walked towards the others. She couldn't make out any of the words as he walked away from her talking to his team. She was too tired to even consider running. She crumpled even further, her head falling into the dirty leaves.

She was startled as arms lifted her to her feet once more.

"Inside," he spoke gruffly, pulling her along with him.

She knew she was in a tent, but it was almost although she were drunk or walking in a dream. Spotting a bed she laid down on it and was out within seconds.

Scabior sat in a chair in the corner and pulled out a list from his jacket pocket. Crossing off a few more names he reached for his flask of firewhisky. He looked to the girl as he tipped the liquid back against his lips.

He had sent the others on. The boys were fine to walk. But the girl had needed rest. He wanted to make her walk but she simply couldn't and he refused to burden himself with carrying her the whole way.

He reached for his wand in its holster and performed the usual charms. She wouldn't be able to escape. Laying his booted foot on the table and crossing his other leg over it, he stretched back into the chair and worked at getting a few hours rest himself.

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><p>Harry was reaching out to her, calling her name and Ron was not far behind. She couldn't make out what they were saying. They were screaming, their mouths forming silent "o"s. It was horrible.<p>

Hermione felt arms on her arms, shaking her violently. She sat with a start. Fuck. She was in the tent. With the snacher. Her heart pounded violently in her chest and she felt sweat on her brow.

"You were screaming," he said.

"I-I was dreaming...," she started.

"You woke me," he said gruffly. "Go back to sleep," he instructed, releasing his grip on her, turning back to his chair.

Hermione wiped the sweat from her brow and then wiped the back of her hand on the sheets. She focused on taking deep breaths, trying to calm her prickled nerves. Suddenly he was at her side again, thrusting a flask before her eyes.

"Drink it," he said.

She looked up at him, at his steely blue eyes. She shook her head 'no'.

"Drink it," he said coldly.

She looked up at him again. Oh Gods, he had nothing but coldness in his eyes. Hermione gingerly reached for the flask and brought it to her nose, smelling gingerly.

"Firewhisky," he continued.

She tipped it back against her lips cautiously and almost coughed as the strong liquid hit her. She wiped her hand across her lips and reached the other hand, holding the flask, out to him.

"No. More." He spoke quietly, menacingly.

She looked at him once more. Once more she was rewarded with that cold gaze. She slowly brought the flask back to her lips and took a large swig. It burned. She never drank firewhisky straight. She felt warmth as it tumbled down her throat. It was almost pleasant.

"Now go to sleep," he said, turning back to his chair.

Her eyes followed him as he sat. She was frozen in place on the bed. She leaned back slowly. Something about him was so cold. It frightened her. She closed her eyes, letting the warmth of the firewhisky take her over, and within moments, she was asleep once more.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione felt hands, rough on her shoulders shaking her awake.

"Oi! Up, love," he shook her then turned towards the small table where his jacket was slung haphazardly over a chair.

Her eyes snapped open. All too quickly the previous day's events had come back to her. Her eyes wandered to the snatcher, slipping into his jacket, the leather stretching over his taut shoulders. She shuddered and brought her arms around herself. Even in her sweater she was chilled. Not only was the air cold, she was trapped here with this unforgiving excuse of a man. Suddenly a thought came into her head...

Oh Gods...the Ministry...

She was headed to the Ministry she supposed. Panic rising in her throat she knew she had to try and do something. She was interrupted before she could even think by his voice addressing her.

"Get ready," he spoke over his shoulder, not even granting her so much as a glance.

She was probably just like any other unfortunate mudblood. She thought on this ruefully. It obviously meant nothing to him to hurt, maim, or kill her kind. It was just a job to him. She tried to put herself in his shoes but was unable to do so. She wondered how many he'd tortured, raped, even killed...

Again she felt the panic, and bile rise in her throat. Back to a plan...

Maybe if they were to apparate she'd have a chance to run when they reached their destination...or if they were walking maybe she could kick him...?

She was snapped from her silent reverie by his cold voice. "You get ready, lovely, or I'll get you ready," he paused for a second turning towards her, raising his eyebrows as he had earlier in the forest, "and we both know you don't want me to do that."

She looked in his eyes and gave her head a quick shake, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and grabbing her boots to pull them on. She spoke as she worked the laces.

"Am I to be delivered to the Ministry, then?," she asked, her voice soft.

He paused, walking to the tent door, lifting the flap and regarding the outside. "Not that its any of your business but...no. We ent." He was faced away from her, his broad shoulders moving as he reached in his pocket for a cigarette.

He turned over his shoulder. "I'm going to smoke this and I don't want any funny business. Yeh?"

She looked at him and bit her lip. She wanted to run but knew he had set enchantments around the perimeter she'd be unable to breach. Dejectedly she decided to comply.

"I'll just go wash my face and clean up," she spoke, starting towards the tiny bathroom.

He acknowledged her with a nod over his shoulder and went outside the tent.

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><p>His boots crunched in the cold earth as he reached the opposite pocket and retrieved his book of matches. Narrowing his eyes at the wind which had seemed to pick up he struck the match, using his gloved hand to block it as he lit the cigarette. He took a long drag and walked the perimeter of the tent, making sure they didn't have any unwanted company.<p>

Satisfied, he turned back towards the tent, reaching the opening flap and pushing it aside.

"Wind's picking up, love. Let's get on."

Hermione heard him through the thin door but pretended she didn't. She needed a plan and she needed it fast. Where the hell was he even taking her? If not to the Ministry then where? And did she have anything she could trade?

She brought cold water from the faucet up to her face in cupped hands. Splashing it on her face, she gasped at the temperature. Flicking her hands free of water she reached to a small towel, bringing it up and padding the skin of her face gently. Surprisingly the dark circles under her eyes from the previous day were gone. She brought her hands up to pinch her cheeks, make them redder. She ran her hands through the tangles in her curled hair desperately trying to straighten them.

Maybe there was something she could trick him with after all...


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione had to act quickly.

She was so nervous the palms of her hands had grown clammy; fingers curling into tight fists and unclenching after. It had become obvious to Hermione fairly quickly in the bathroom that morning there was really only one way to delay the inevitable. Since he obviously cared little for most people and seemed completely devoid of empathy, she would have to appeal to him in a way he understood. She would have to throw something in front of him he wanted.

She was going to try and seduce her snatcher.

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><p>"What in the bloody 'ell is takin so damn long, girlie?," he barked into the tent, lifting the flap and entering in a few broad steps. His feet came to a halt quickly. Where in Godric's name was she? The little minx was hiding from him.<p>

He was furious in an instant. He'd already pointed out the futility of her situation to her. He'd already demonstrated he was bigger, faster, and handier with a spell. _How dare she._ How dare she waste his time like this after he stopped for the night. And regardless of what she might have thought, stopping for the night was a purely selfish motivation. He was tired. He needed rest. He got to blame it on the mudblood.

That _bitch_.

"I suppose I should call you _Hermione_," he said, caressing her name in a menacing manner and stepping slowly around the room, like a lion circling its prey. She was obviously in the bathroom as the door was closed. Where she planned on hiding was a mystery to him. "Hermione Granger, I reckon, based on the fact that we just got 'arry Potter and his ginger friend."

No answer came as he approached the door, standing outside of it.

"Come out, love. My patience is wearing thin," he spoke to her through the door, teeth gritted, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. In reality he was beyond angry but trying his darndest to not scream, break down the door and rip her up by her hair. The only thing that prevented him from doing this was the fact that he wanted her presented to the Dark Lord in one piece.

He was surprised when he saw the door handle turn slowly. Taking a step back, he allowed her to open the door to him. He was glaring at her and if she could have melted into a puddle at his feet she would have. She was absolutely terrified. Ever so slowly she brought her eyes up to his. She swallowed and noticed he watched her throat as it moved. She tipped her head back and parted her lips, running her pink tongue out to wet them in a fluid motion.

His gaze dropped to her lips and she suddenly gained the courage to continue.

"I am to go to the Dark Lord, then?," she asked softly, bringing a hand up to tuck an errant curl behind her ear. She then let it drift down to the neckline of her jumper.

Scabior remained motionless. He neither confirmed nor denied her suspicions.

Slowly lowering her hand back down to its side she took a slow step towards him, her eyes not leaving his. His lips parted, almost as if he was going to answer her question.

She looked down to her boots then brought her hands together in front of her. She took one more step closer to him closing the distance that had been there before. Her heart hammered in her ears. She couldn't breathe. She could barely move. She only knew one thing. She _had_ to save Harry and Ron. She _had_ to escape. Failure was not an option. There was too much riding on her.

Still looking down at her hands she slowly brought one up between them. His eyebrows knitted together, but relaxed when she placed her right hand on his lower abdomen. He let out a sharp breath as she brought her eyes to his.

Slowly drawing her hand upwards, over his pectoral muscle, to rest there, she spoke again, softly, " is there _nothing_ I could do to change your mind?"

He continued to stare at her, his steely gaze unflinching. Her eyes softened as she ran her hand higher, to the side of his neck where she felt the small hairs that had escaped his plait. She could feel his hot breath on her face. Cigarettes. She angled her face to his and slowly moved in. She tilted her nose so their faces aligned and gently, softly placed a small kiss on his lips.

And she was surprised. For instead of them being rough and chapped they were surprisingly smooth. She leaned in for another kiss and then the unthinkable happened. He laughed. He _laughed _at her and stepped backwards, away from her.

"What are you...twelve?," he laughed, turning his back to her obviously hysterical with the idea that he would want her.

He spoke again. "Sorry, my lovely, I only bed women."

She stood there unmoving, confused. He continued.

" You know, _women_? Curvy?," he demonstrated with his hands, drawing an imaginary hourglass shape in the air.

" Actual women who actually want me. I certainly don't need some innocent little girl mudblood who doesn't know how to fuck unwillingly flinging herself at me," he turned back towards her.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he realized he was lying. Lying through his teeth. It had started with her scent. And the fact that she had put up quite a good fight during their forest chase. She was obviously intelligent, and the idea of a quick fuck had certainly both occurred and appealed to him. But her stupid little boyfriends had put an end to that by lying about their names. He had had to sort that out. No lovely for him.

"Now, let's get on, shall we," he started and a feral grin spread over his features. He turned once more to the tent flap and walked towards it, towards the outside.

She was humiliated. She was horrified. She couldn't believe it. A snatcher, a filthy _snatcher_ for Godric's sake had rejected her. Thinking quickly and refusing to give up her poker face she spoke directly in his face.

"And what makes you think I'm innocent?"

He froze for a moment, thinking. Slowly, he turned on his heel.

He spoke from where he was, his eyes squinting, his voice low. "Oh really, my girl?,"

Her eyebrows knitted together as he took a step towards her. Suddenly she was worried. It was like the situation had completely changed from her having the upper hand, to him, in the space of a few moments.

She stepped back as he took another step towards her.

"'Cause as I see it, you shrank away from me earlier like some frigid schoolgirl." His eyes were cold once again, trained on her as he approached menacingly.

Her lips parted, as her breathing sped up. Her fight or flight response was kicking in.

"I-," she stammered, took another step backwards, then yelped as she realized she had backed into the back wall of the tent. She was trapped. There was nowhere to go now.

"So tell me if I'm wrong, my lovely," he said, slowly closing the distance between them.

She hadn't realized how broad his shoulders were and how tall he was. She had meant to reply but nothing came out but a small whimper as she instinctively brought her hands up to protect herself.

"Because I like my women willing. And knowledgeable. If you get my meaning," he said to her, smirking, obviously enjoying the chase as much as the humiliation.

"I don't want to fuck some dead fish little girl."

Anger flashed in her eyes for a moment. She wouldn't let him treat her like this. She would have the upper hand; have the power.

"I'm not some naive little girl," she spat back at him, leaning forwards with the force of her words.

The corners of his mouth twitched and rose once again, set in another cruel smirk as he slowly reached forward and grabbed a lock of hair; running his fingers into the hair that fell over her right shoulder. He brought it to his nose which forced her head closer to his. Her heart was beating so quickly she was sure he could hear it. Her breath hitched and she held it. Staring at her, he ran his hand from the hair to the side of her neck pulling her closer to him. The hairs at the nape of her neck prickled at his touch. He softly shook her, forcing her to look into his eyes. His mouth still set in that hard line and his lips inches from hers, he held her, grip tightening against her neck and spoke quietly.

"Prove it."


	4. Chapter 4

He didn't really give her a chance to prove anything, for his hand was insistent on the back of her throat and pulled her into him; into his lips.

Panic flooded her mind immediately.

_Oh no...oh no..._

She could feel his tongue against the seam of her lips and she parted them as he slid inside. She had never kissed or been kissed like this before. She had to distract him, so she allowed him this trespass, opening her mouth to him.

It should have been disgusting.

It should have been horrible.

It wasn't.

It wasn't sloppy or odd as had been her previous experience. He kissed her gently, teasing her tongue, making her want to feel more; wanting him to discover her more fully.

A soft moan escaped her lips as she threw herself into her role, partly acting, partly the sharp pangs of desire. She had been so over-stressed for so long; giving herself to someone like this felt so-wrong? Relaxing? It was a terrible feeling; to be bargaining with yourself only to find your body responding in a way you did not expect.

His tongue moved against her again and she couldn't think anymore.

_Fine_, he thought, _she wants to try this, then I'll let her_. He was only a man, after all. She wasn't his type really, but he had loved smelling her fear in the forest, that sweet vanilla scent mixed with something uniquely hers. Now it flooded his senses; made his blood stir. That vanilla smell enveloped him as he stopped kissing her for a moment to look at her face.

Well, she was smaller than he normally liked, but still had a pretty enough face. And she was young, so young. But that didn't bother him either. He knew she was lying about having been touched before; she was quite likely a virgin. But he would continue the charade, if she would. He had nothing to lose.

She reached for his shoulders, slowly pushing his jacket to the floor. He grabbed her, pulling her close and moved his mouth against hers, almost savagely. Despite being young she tasted good, like honey. Mixed with fear.

His hand still gripped her, forcing her mouth open against his. She sighed into him and lost her balance, falling against him slightly.

She pulled back but only to speak. As soon as she tilted her head to the side he was at her neck, kissing and sucking the exposed skin.

"So...are we clear,?" she spoke between sharp intakes of breath, not needing to ask the actual question.

He continued to suck the soft flesh but replied in between breaths, "yes, my lovely".

Then she felt hands on the bottom of her jumper and she raised her hands over her head as he removed it and cast it aside, feeling the sharp prickling of tears at the corner of her eyes.

_She would not cry. She would not cry. She would not cry._

Everything was moving so fast but she knew she had no choice. Losing virginity was a lot better than being murdered by the Dark Lord.

His hands were on her breasts in her bra in an instant, kneading the soft flesh, making her seek out his mouth to gasp into it.

She had never been touched. Not anything close to this. Her body was betraying her. She wanted to resist, or make him stop. She felt so guilty that when she shut out all her thoughts about the war, Harry, and Ron, she was enjoying this. It was so un-Gryffindor of her. But she realized, playing along with this game was possibly the only way to keep her and the boys safe. So she would let him take her and enjoy it and try to prove to him that she was good enough at it for him to uphold his end of the bargain and agree to let her go.

She wouldn't pretend it was Ron. That was just wrong. She would try to find the good in the situation.

Suddenly she was being lifted and she let out a small yelp as he parted her legs, placing them around his back and moved them over to the bed. He dropped her onto it, covering her with his body immediately.

He was kissing her again, and she felt his hands go to her trousers and she was suddenly afraid. She tensed and he obviously felt it; he smirked against her neck.

"Is there a _problem_?," he asked, stressing the last word as if challenging her.

He was playing a game; a game that she herself had started, but one he was all too willing to play along with. He knew very well what she was.

She whispered 'no', as her lips parted when he found a particularly sensitive area of her neck that he kissed.

"I-I'm just a little out of practice, is all," she almost gasped as he unbuttoned her jeans in a single motion, and ran his fingers along the edging of her panties.

He sat back on his haunches, his legs on either side of hers, but only to pull his vest off and then his shirt.

Hermione's breathing became stilted as her eyes roamed his naked chest. She had seen Harry and Ron without shirts when swimming, and even Viktor during a particularly questionable snogging session. But the sinking feeling that there was really no escape from the situation at this point scared her. This was going to happen. She was going to have a man put himself inside her. And she had no idea what to do about it.

His eyes roamed her nearly half naked form.

"Take it off," he said, his voice cracking. He was obviously ready. Her eyes accidentally roamed to his pants and saw the tented bulge. She swallowed as she leaned forward slightly to reach behind herself and unhook her bra. He grabbed it before she had a chance to run it down her arms and flung it across the room. His large hands moved to the waistband of her trousers and moved to slide them down.

"Up," he said softly, looking at her hips.

She blushed and looked away raising her hips.

_What am I doing? _

When the trousers were on the floor he ran his hands over her smooth legs. She looked down at him, this strange man, kneeling on a bed between her legs. He ran his hands over and behind her kneecaps and she closed her eyes, licking her lips. His touch was so light...almost..._gentle?_

Hermione shuddered, her eyes still closed as his hands ran farther up to her things and then back down again. Instinctively, she brought her legs together at the knees.

He realized she was nervous, and moved so he was on top of her, his weight resting on his forearms. He started kissing her again and was able to part her knees with his hand and slide it slowly up her thigh until he reached the lace trim of her panties. She was terrified, but continued kissing him, completely unsure of what would happen next. She wouldn't have too much time to think about it, though, for he began to stroke her through the fabric of her panties and she had to stop herself from crying out.


	5. Chapter 5

"I knew it," he said, his voice no more than a whisper against her ear. His mouth resumed its trail down her neck as she let out small noises and alternately clenched and unclenched her hands.

"Kn-knew what?," she asked, her voice catching.

His hand on her still as did he feathery kisses that made her ache. Bringing his mouth to her ear he spoke again.

"I knew you were lying," he said. Before she could speak, he continued. "No one who had ever been touched by a man would react the way you did. Not that I minded...," his voice trailed off as he raised himself up on his forearms and pushed his weight back to crouch down, on his heels over her.

Hermione sat bolt upright, her face red in a combination of embarrassment and anger.

"You knew and you let me?," she yelled in his face.

Instead of replying, the corners of his mouth curled into a smirk. He was amused.

"You are a vile, _vile_ man!"

Hermione threw her legs over the side of the bed, reaching quickly for the sheet to cover her breasts. She looked daggers at Scabior. Instead of him being angry, he chuckled. He was quite entertained.

She continued as she rose, wrapping the sheet about her, scrambling to gather her clothes. She muttered under her breath; he couldn't really make out the words except for, " horrible...vile...filthy, evil snatcher", which actually made his smile wider. She deserved it. Trying to play him for a fool. He was in control. And he'd gotten to see her half naked. Always a bonus.

"Aw, c'mon sweet'eart," he started walking towards her as she struggled into her jumper. She had the garment over her head, but her head still hadn't poked through. He very gently grabbed the bottom of it, pulling it down, helping her into it. "I think you liked it, my lovely."

Her head now through the opening she pulled her arms through the holes and shoved him with all her might. He didn't budge. This made him laugh as well. He was infuriating.

"I did _not_ like it. Not one bit you bloody arse!", she stepped back, realizing she couldn't move him. Her face flushed when she involuntarily glanced at his hand and remembered how it had felt upon her skin. The skin between her thighs...

"I think you're thinking about it right now," he continued, his voice husky, noticing her glance.

"I am NOT!" She cried, and moved to her trousers on the floor. She grabbed them and fiddled with them, turning them right-side out.

"Take me to...wherever you're taking me and be done with it!," she spat as she struggled into the trouser legs.

Scabior had arrived at her side once again and she swatted at him with her hand.

"Don't," she said angrily, her jaw clenched.

He put his hands up in a mock sort of surrender and spoke to her.

"Alright, sweet'eart, alright."

She turned away from him as she pulled the jeans up about her hips, needing to drop the sheet. She glanced over her shoulder to see if he was watching. He was. Snapping the button closed and pulling up the zipper she spoke again, turning towards him.

"Just take me there," she said, defeat showing in her eyes.

His eyes roamed her slender form and suddenly clouded over again. He took one step towards her, intimidating her with his height. He grabbed her by the waist with one hand. It was meant as dominance, not sexual. A small gasp left her lips as he pulled her even closer. Leaning his face down to her ear, he spoke softly. She shuddered as she felt his breath on the tiny hairs on the side of her face.

"No, my lovely. I don't think I will."


	6. Chapter 6

Am debating if I should continue this or not...and what direction to take it in...any suggestions?


	7. Chapter 7

"What do you mean, you aren't taking me there? Then what?," she said, her voice nearing a screech.

She wanted to hide under his bed. She wanted to run and hide from him. She wanted to just lay there and not go over the complete humiliation and gamut of emotions she'd felt today. Anything but being in front of this man, completely clothed yet utterly naked.

He closed the last few inches between them with several well-placed steps, and she instinctively took a step back, still afraid of him.

When he spoke, it was a hushed tone that frightened her even more.

"I thought we had an agreement, you and I," he said, his voice no more than a whisper.

"What do you mean?," she asked, retreating another step.

"Nuh-uh," he said, bringing his finger up to wag at her before his eyes changed from teasing to lust-filled. The finger reached for her hair again, slowly, and twirled a section around his fingers. "You said, and I quote, '...are we clear?...'..." his voice trailed off as his fingers worked themselves into her hair, then slowly ran to the hollow where her neck met shoulder.

She shivered involuntarily at his touch and backed away. He dropped his hand.

"Oh...that...," she started, barely audible.

"Yes."

No one spoke as she looked away and he continued.

"Are you not a woman of your word?," he asked, his voice still low.

Her head tilted away from him as she almost smiled ruefully. Of course he would use this against her. She tilted her chin up defiantly.

"I am," she spoke, thinking before adding, "...are you?"

"Yes," he said again, softer this time, as if that was possible.

She looked up at him cautiously and saw nothing but fire in his eyes. They spoke volumes. They said he would have her, now. There really were no options. Hermione quickly started rationalizing.

"I thought you said you only wanted a woman...someone curvy...experienced...," she said, again retreating as he moved forward slowly, like a lion.

"I changed my mind about that part," he said, advancing once more, before continuing.

"I also said I only want someone who wants me. And you want me."

He had spoken deliberately at her, no smirk, no teasing. Just seriously staring her down which made her heart hammer against her ribcage.

"But I don't," she started her voice in a higher, worried register.

He tilted his head to the side and squinted his eyes, saying to her he knew she was lying.

"Really...please...," she started, backed against the tent wall once more as he closed the distance between them, mere inches from her.

His hand went again to her hair, this time bringing a lock to his nose. This action forced her closer and she could feel his breath ghost across her lips as she spoke.

"I've smelled you before."

Her breathing hitched as she could now quite literally hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears. He was too close...

"You smell like vanilla," he said releasing the lock and bringing his hand to her neck, pulling her closer gently.

"You're going to be my favorite," he spoke as he guided her lips to his.


End file.
